Tomorrow Never Knows
by beautiful.mind-broken.body
Summary: While running from the Vietnam War, Sodapop and Steve find themselves in the midst of another. The Soc vs. Greaser rivalry may have ended, but on the hippie infested streets of the Haight-Ashbury the war had just begun. Warning: Drug Use
1. Chapter 1

I remembered clutching onto the sheet of white paper from the Selective Service System as everything else around me dissolved into darkness. "Ordered to report for armed forces physical examination" was splashed across the top of the page in bold print. I kept reading it over in my mind. Sure, an examination. I knew the deal. It was just like that Arlo Guthrie had said in that song. "You get injected, inspected, detected, infected, neglected and selected."

I'd ended up shoving the notice in my pocket at the slamming of the screen door. Ponyboy came in, probably from school, and went straight to the ice box for the makings of a sandwich.

I felt the color drain out of my face when I realized that this slip of paper was going to take me away from my little brother. Sure, we'd all seen them announce my birthday on the television, but somehow it hadn't seemed real. I squeezed the paper in my pocket until it made a tight ball, as if that would somehow negate the order inside.

Pony grinned at me as he slathered mustard on a slice of bread. God, it had taken so long for him to get back to this point. After what happened with Johnny and Dallas, Darry and I were about sure he'd never be the same. It had taken a long time, but he'd finally gotten his head back together. He'd be graduating in the spring and was actually looking at colleges. I wondered if he could handle me taking off for the war.

I knew Darry would be fine. Nothing ever ruffled his feathers--I doubt even Chairman Mao would. Besides, he and Pony had been getting along real well for a while. And with his new job as a construction foreman, he really didn't even need my help with money anymore.

"Jeez, Soda," Pony said stopping in his tracks. "What's eating you?"

I blinked, realizing that I'd probably been dazing off for a while. Pony suddenly looked so young to me standing there with mustard on his face. How could anyone expect me to just leave him? I wasn't stupid. I knew that there was a pretty good chance that if I left, I wouldn't be coming back.

I forced a smile for his benefit and headed for the door. "Nothing, Pone," I assured him. "I gotta go find Steve though. Tell Darry I probably won't be back 'till dinner, okay?"

He nodded between bites of his sandwich. "Catch you later," he called flipping through a notebook.

That was the last time I'd seen my little brother. When I'd met up with Steve he'd been staring at a letter identical to the one in my pocket. He'd gotten his a week earlier.

"You can't go over there, Soda," he'd screamed desperately, shaking me by my shoulders. "Christ, how can _I_ go over there? Does anyone even know what we're fighting for anymore?"

"Hell if I know," I sighed, then looked up at him, remembering something Two-Bit had told me once about burning his draft card, if he ever got one. "Let's ditch."

Steve's mouth dropped open. "Ditch?" he practically yelped. "This ain't like English class, Sodapop! You can't just ditch out on the draft."

"Why not?" I asked calmly.

"They'll come looking for you," Steve growled waving his draft notice in my face. "This isn't an invitation, Soda, it's a death sentence."

I stood up and paced the floor a few times.

"So we'll take off," I suggested with a grin. "We'll go somewhere far away from here. Somewhere no one would think to look for us. How much money do you have?"

Steve didn't speak for a minute, then started shaking his head, and I grinned even wider at the idea of what I was proposing.

"You better stop smiling like that, Curtis," He said stubbornly. "I don't know what you're thinking but it ain't gonna work."

My mind was racing. There were millions of people just in the United States. Finding me and Steve would be next to impossible, right?

Steve fell into the armchair across from me. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

I nodded slowly. "What's our other option?" I asked. "March off to our deaths willingly?"

Steve shuddered when I said that. I knew he was thinking about me dying, because I was thinking about it happening to him too.

He suddenly jumped up from the chair and headed down the hall to his room. I could hear him rummaging around and followed to see what he was doing.

"What are you doing?" I asked amusedly as I watched him dump one of his dresser drawers out on the floor.

He stopped for a split second, only to look at me like I was crazy, then kept digging through piles of his belongings.

"I'm packing before my father gets home and beats my head in," he answered with a spark in his eye. "You know, I hear California is nice this time of year."


	2. Chapter 2

I was almost relieved when I found the note from Darry on the table saying that he'd taken Pony out for pizza. I knew that Darry would flip if he caught wind of what we were up to. Darry was by the books and he always would be. He'd rather ship me off to war than have to deal with the embarrassment of me dodging the draft.

"You gonna leave a note?" Steve asked from my bed as I shoved my belongings into a duffle bag. "Let them know what's going on?"

I shrugged. "Wasn't planning on it. You think I ought to?"

Steve lit up a cigarette and took a few drags before answering.

"You remember that time Pony and Johnny took off?"

I stopped packing, realizing what he was getting at. That week had been one of the worst times of my life. Not knowing where he was or if he was even alive about drove me and Darry crazy.

"I'll leave a note," I told him. I didn't want to put them through that.

I hastily scribbled out a note to Darry, anxious to get out of the house before they returned. Part of me knew that if I didn't leave just then I'd never be able to. If I saw Darry give me that "stop-messing-around" look or Pony's goofy face again I knew wouldn't be able to just take off.

Leaving the note on the table, I hauled my duffle bag over my shoulder and followed Steve out onto the front porch. He flicked a cigarette butt onto the lawn and looked over at me, his eyes squinting from the setting sun.

"You really want to do this?"

I nodded hesitantly. "Darry'll understand," I said, probably trying harder to convince myself than Steve.

Steve nodded. "Okay," He said, then swallowed hard. "You ready to get out of here?"

"Yeah, sure," I answered, pausing at the gate to look back at my house one last time. Who knew when I'd see it again? I'd never really noticed how rundown the place was until just then. Maybe going to California would be a nice change. I bet things were a lot cleaner out there.

Steve's hand was on my shoulder then, gently urging me along. We walked side-by-side down the street, each with a bag slung over our shoulder, as the sun sank lover behind the trees. We walked past the DX, but thankfully no one was around to see us except Buzz. Buzz mostly worked when Steve and I didn't, so we'd never really gotten to know him too well.

We walked down the strip towards the highway, past Jay's. It felt weird to be walking down the opposite side of the street. It felt weird to be walking away from everything we'd ever known.

Between the two of us, Steve and I had managed to come up with a little less than sixty dollars. We'd decided it would be smarter to try to hitch out to California and save our money than pay for train or bus tickets.

We got lucky about two miles outside of town when a green pickup slowed down and asked where we were headed.

"California," I told him then added a "sir" to be polite.

The man in the truck was old enough to be our father. He had plenty of hair coming out from his nose and ears but not much on the top of his head.

"Well, I'm afraid I'm only going as far as Albuquerque," He told us, spitting some chew out of his window. "But you're more than welcome to come along."

I glanced at Steve. He'd grimaced when the man had spit before, but slung his duffle into the bed of the truck and offered to take mine anyway as I climbed into the cab.

"Name's Lincoln," The man told me as we pulled back out onto the road. "Like the president."

I stifled a laugh. This guy was bizarre. Beside me Steve had slouched down and crossed his arms over his chest.

"My name's Sodapop," I told him, and he looked at me sideways for a second, then nodded.

"You one of them hippies, son?" He asked spitting another wad of chew out the window.

I had to laugh at that. "No, I'm a greaser," I said candidly.

"Sure," Lincoln laughed right along with me. "And I really am the president. Look, son. Your name is Sodapop, you've got long hippy hair and you're heading to California. You're a flower child if I ever seen one."

I guessed my hair had gotten a little long. But I figured there was no use trying to argue with him. He'd already made up his mind, and I guessed it was better that he think we were hippies than criminals. I looked at Steve, who refused anywhere other then out the window. It was going to be a long ride to Albuquerque.


	3. Chapter 3

By the time we crossed the Texas border into New Mexico I knew Steve had just about had it with Lincoln. He chewed more than a cow and hadn't stopped rambling for nearly five hundred miles.

"In my day we didn't just go wandering half-way across the country searching for… whatever it is you kids are after," he said jamming another pinch of dip between his bottom lip and rotting teeth. "Y'all don't need none of this free love bullshit. What you need is Jesus."

I let my head rest on the back of the seat wish I could tune him out long enough to fall asleep. We'd just about driven through the night, except for a few quick stops in Texas. If Lincoln wasn't driving us nearly half-way to California I'd have been inclined to be more irritated than I was.

Beside me I could actually feel Steve getting more and more edgy. At the last stop he'd nearly bolted out from the cab before it had come to a stop.

"You gotta take it easy Stevie," I'd laughed, following him into the rest station. "He's not _that_ bad."

"Not that bad?" Steve had cried forcing some change desperately into the cigarette machine near the restroom. He'd gone through a whole pack since we'd left Tulsa. "His teeth are brighter than he is."

Of course I'd agreed with him, but I hadn't let him know that. If Steve had any idea that I was just as sick of Lincoln as he was, he wouldn't hesitate to go off on him.

"There ain't nothing in Cali but a bunch of John-a-dreams," Lincoln started up again, just as I was getting close to passing out. "They're not even has-beens, just a whole mess of never-was."

Steve lit up his third cigarette in fifteen minutes. I hoped he didn't make himself sick. I didn't think I could stand five hundred more miles sandwiched between the Skoal King and a pile of puke.

"You boys are gonna be mighty disappointed when you get all the way out there and realize that it don't matter where you go," Lincoln enlightened us between spitting, "you'll still make the same mistakes, regardless of where you're at."

"If you want to know about mistakes," Steve muttered just loud enough to be heard, "ask your mother."

Lincoln about swerved off the road, narrowly missing a passing station wagon.

"What was that boy?" he demanded, his knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel so hard.

I looked sideways at Steve. Didn't he understand that this guy was in a position to dump us in the middle of nowhere? His eyes met mine and I knew we were done for.

···

After Steve and Lincoln got into it, he dumped us on the side of the highway. The sun had just started showing along the horizon and I still hadn't gotten any sleep.

"Let's go," Steve grumbled, heaving his duffle from off the dusty shoulder of the highway.

"Go?" I sighed. "Go where? We're in the middle of goddamn nowhere Steve."

"We keep walking," he snapped. "There's got to be a rest stop or something around here somewhere."

I grinned at how quickly he got agitated. Ever since we were kids Steve had been flying off the handle at nearly everything. I let him take a few steps before I flopped down on the side of the road with my duffle under my head and closed my eyes. As much as I wished Steve had just kept his mouth shut until Albuquerque, I had to admit it was nice to be able to close my eyes without Lincoln's voice in my ear.

Steve stopped when he realized I wasn't following him and spun around. He had a look on his face that, had it been directed at anyone else but me, would have meant he was ready start swinging.

"What the hell are you doing Curtis?"

I just smiled up at him, knowing that he'd calm himself down soon enough.

"I'm taking a rest," I announced with an exhausted chuckle. "California will still be there no matter when we start walking."

Steve clenched his jaw for a split second. That was the closest he really got to being aggressive towards me.

"We can't just sleep on the side of the road," he huffed. "We can't just _stay_ here. We have to get moving. He have to--"

"Steve!" I yelled above him, unable to hold my laugher inside anymore. He looked at me like I was crazy. "Don't you get it man?"

Steve kicked at the dirt, dropping his duffle by his side. "Get what?"

"At this point, we don't _have_ to do anything," I reminded him.

I hated looking at his fighting face, so I let my eyes close again knowing that he'd soon be lying beside me. With a defeated sigh, Steve shuffled around, then dropped down beside me.

"Unbelievable," he muttered.

I cracked an eye, chuckling to myself as he bit back a smirk and elbowed me in the ribs. Steve was, well, predictable. I closed my eyes again, eager to get some sleep; feeling safe with my buddy, even on the side of the road.

California would still be there.


	4. Chapter 4

When I woke up it was starting to get dark and startlingly cold. Steve was already on his feet, stamping around as if that would somehow drive the chill out of him.

"'Bout time you woke up," he groused. "You slept the whole damn day away."

I stretched out; partly disappointed that sleep hadn't done anything for Steve's disposition. I figured he'd probably had a lot of time to think about what he wanted to spout off about while I was sleeping, so I just laid back and let him have it out.

"Now," he continued, frustrated, "we gotta start walking through the middle of nowhere in the dark."

"You could've woken me," I yawned and got to my feet. "Maybe someone will scoop us up along the way."

Steve scowled and kicked my bag towards me. "Sure, someone's gonna stop their night to pick up two hoods on the side of the highway, just for kicks," he said sarcastically.

I'd just shrugged. With the way thing had gone so far, I figured about anything could happen next. Then, as if on cue, we saw the faint glow of lights coming from down the highway a ways. I raised my eyebrows at Steve suggestively and he set his jaw, looking away. I can't figure out for the life of me why he still acts like that after all these years. He knows damn well that when he gets in his moods I can't resist giving him a hard time.

"You want me to try to flag 'em down?" I offered, then elbowed him and grinned. "Might be a few foxes cruising along."

Steve bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling.

"Aw, go ahead," he waved me away and I headed for the side of the road.

As it got closer, we could see that it was a green Volkswagen bus. I held an arm up, not fully expecting them to pull over. Beside me, I heard Steve let out a bewildered gasp as the van put its blinker on and came to a stop beside us.

The passenger rolled down his window and smiled through half-open eyes at us. He looked to be only a few years older than us and had shoulder length blond hair and the beginnings of a beard where he'd neglected to shave for what looked like a week. He was wearing some kind of loudly blue, loose shirt with gold and green embroidery around the collar and sleeves. Around his neck were strung about five or so necklaces of rawhide and shiny beads.

He held up two fingers at us and Steve took a step towards him defensively. I instinctively put out and arm to insure that he wouldn't jump at them.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, but the boy just looked at his hand and smiled.

"It means peace, man," he explained calmly, which shut Steve up good.

"Where are you heading?" The driver asked, looking at us from over the top of his sunglasses.

He too had long hair, but dark and held out of his eyes by a strip of leather that ran across his forehead and tied behind. He wore a thin, white linen shirt and a ragged leather vest. He seemed a little less zoned out than his passenger, who was now completely absorbed in examining his own hands.

"California," I told him, not taking my eyes off his friend. "Is he okay?"

"Oh, that's just Kipper" the driver laughed heartily, which oddly reassured me. "Yeah, he's great. A little far gone, but I'm sure he's feeling real nice."

Kipper seemed to snap out of his daze at the mention of his name and fixed his eyes on Steve, who kept shifting uncomfortably.

"You have an angry soul," Kipper crooned intuitively and Steve looked at me imploringly.

"Kip." The driver swatted at his companion. "You feel down for making a trip back to The Haight."

"The Haight?" Kipper drawled, looking as if he was debating this very hard with himself. He suddenly smiled and turned to the driver. "KG, I just follow the roads your love wagon takes us down. But, sure, I'll tag along to 'Frisco."

I turned to Steve, who had his hands jammed in his pockets, his head down and his collar turned up, shielding his face. I wasn't stupid. I knew he didn't really want to get in the van with these kids, but I didn't see another option.

"Free ride to California, Stevie," I reminded him quietly, but he still refused to meet my eyes. "Or we could pass and hope someone else comes along before it gets pitch black."

Steve dropped his shoulders and I flung the side door open, knowing I'd won at least this battle. I dove into the open back of the van and Steve resentfully threw our bags in after me. He hesitated for a split second, but ended up beside me on the floor of the Volkswagen.

Kip turned out to be quite the talker once he got going. He explained that KG was called such because he got cagey if he stayed in one place for very long and spent twenty minutes filling us in on their saga up to the point where they found us on the side of the road. They'd met up in New York City about a year ago and had been bashing around the country ever since, making frequent stops in San Francisco where--according to Kip--the real scene was.

"What are those things around your neck?" Steve asked critically. "You some kind of fruit or something?"

I about died, but Kip just looked down at the beads around his neck, as if he'd forgotten they'd even been there. He fingered them thoughtfully for minute before slipping one strand over his head and holding them up.

"They're love beads," he explained, not offended in the least by Steve's mouth. "They promote feelings of goodwill and peace between man."

He suddenly slipped the strand over Steve's head. For a second Steve looked like he was going to deck Kip, but thought better of it.

"Some people believe that when the strand breaks you're soon to fall in love," Kip told us mystically, his eyes glazing over for a moment.

Steve looked at the beads around his neck broodingly and I grinned at him when he caught me watching him. He scowled and looked away, but left the beads around his neck anyways.

"You need to mellow out, brother," Kip concluded and began fishing through a paper bag in the front seat.

Finally, finding what he was looking for, he turned to us holding up a joint. "You cats blaze?" he smiled, striking a match and puffing on it a few times before holding it out to Steve.

Back in Tulsa Steve hardly ever touched the stuff, but considering how uptight he'd been, I guess he was desperate enough to take a few hits. I watched him suck hard on it, burning it almost halfway down. He choked, not realizing how harsh it would be to his lungs, and coughed a few times letting the smoke out in one big, bluish cloud.

"This shit tastes funny; like soap, almost," Steve said after spending a few minutes in silence. "My tongue feels…"

"Numb? It's the opium," KG clarified from the front seat. My jaw dropped and I caught his eye in the rear view mirror. "Never smoked an a-bomb before, I take it?"

"A-bomb?" Steve laughed merrily, his mood seeming to take a turn for the better. "Ain't that what we're supposed to be dropping on them Gooks?"

I almost choked too, but Steve's comment only motivated KG into an hour long rant about the war. Steve laughed maniacally and made idiotic comments until he wore himself out and wound up sprawled out across the back of the van. I was thankful for that. I didn't have to listen to anymore of KG's ranting or Steve's profoundly imbecilic slurs.

I stretched out next to Steve, using my bag as a pillow. I wondered how Pony and Darry were getting along back home. I wondered if our taking off was tearing them up as bad as it had when Pony and Johnny had taken off. I closed my eyes and inwardly groaned, deciding not to think about them for a while.

Would we even make it California? Or would these two run their van into a ditch somewhere along the way. For the first time since my parents passed I determined that I wasn't worried about what was going to happen the next day. It was as if a giant weight had been lifted from my chest. Maybe California would prove to be one of the best things that ever hit me and Steve, after all... It certainly couldn't be the worst.

**Credit to Lactose for helping me wrap this one up. Much thanks, as always.**


	5. Chapter 5

Catching a ride with KG and Kip turned out to be a pretty wild time. At least they kept us from being bored as we tooled through the vast nothingness that was Arizona. KG had wanted to cut up through Nevada to get there quicker but, after listening to Kip rattle off hundreds of reasons why it would be better for us to keep going through Arizona and drive up the coast to San Francisco, he'd kept to Route 66.

Every hundred miles or so, Kip would dip back into his paper bag pulling out a dark, tar-like wad of opium, which he called 'block.' Steve and I tried to keep from looking utterly amazed at what we were watching as he would pinch off a chunk and roll it expertly between his fingers until it was a thin strand, the length of a joint. Then he would lay it inside a Juicy Jay rolling paper, beside a pile of what KG called _hippie lettuce_.

"Hippie lettuce?" I'd repeated ingenuously. "I thought it was pot."

KG smiled from the front seat and Kipper turned around, handing the joint to Steve, who eagerly accepted it. I wondered briefly if I was in some sort of alternate universe. I'd never seen Steve clamber for weed like that before.

"Hippy lettuce just means that this stuff ain't much good," KG explained. "It'll get you there, but won't blow your mind. We got about a pound of it the last time we were in Tijuana."

"A pound?" I asked, shocked.

"Sure, kid," Kip nodded as he climbed over the front seat into the back with us. Apparently he'd had enough of Steve trying awkwardly to pass him the joint without burning either of them. "Kage, we ought to get back down to T.J. sometime soon to--"

KG cleared his throat loudly, which shut Kip up pretty fast. I wondered what Kip had been about to say and why KG hadn't wanted him to discuss it in front of us. I looked to Steve, but he was far too absorbed in his joint to have even noticed what had been said.

"You better lay off that shit," I muttered taking the joint from him and handing it back to Kipper. "You're gonna fry your brain."

Steve shot me an icy glare and snatched the joint back from Kip. He looked at it hard for a minute before holding it out to me.

"Take a hit."

I rolled my eyes. He knew damn well that I hardly ever touched that kind of stuff.

"Just fuckin' do it Curtis," he snarled in a tone he didn't usually take with me. "It's real nice. It'll calm you down. Unless you're chicken, that is."

"I ain't chicken," I snapped back, surprising myself. "It's just, me and Darry don't want Pony picking up on that kind of stuff is all. Plus, with the people from the state always checking in, I have to keep my nose clean."

Steve toked on the joint thoughtfully. "Ponyboy and Darry ain't here," he mused, deliberately blowing his smoke in my face. "Besides, we don't _have _to do anything. Remember?"

God, I hated it when Steve got like this. We weren't too big on fighting usually, but Steve had a tendency to try to bully me into things and I had a habit of being pretty stubborn sometimes which usually led to both of us getting riled up.

Kip looked at me and smiled through half-closed eyes as Steve waved the joint in front of me. At that point, we'd been driving for hours and hadn't stopped once to eat or use the bathroom. I was tired and hungry and Steve was stupidly high and edgy. I suddenly couldn't stomach the idea of getting into it with him just then.

"Fine," I took the joint, mostly to shut him up, "then will you calm down?"

Steve agreed and sat back against the side of the van, watching me. I brought the joint to my lips and paused for a second. Steve and Kipper both nodded and KG smiled, watching me from the rear view.

"_Here goes nothing," _I thought. I let the thick, soapy smoke fill my lungs, turning off my brain for a few sweet hours as we ambled farther along the arid highway.


	6. Chapter 6

I remember being a kid, taking Sunday rides with my parents and brothers. Darry mostly stuck to sitting proper on his seat and looking out the window, and my mother usually scattered a few toys around to keep Pony occupied. He usually wound up sitting cross-legged on the floor, turned around backwards so the seat served as a play surface.

I used to squish myself between the back window and the top of the seat. There had been just enough room for me to lie out on my back and watch the sky passing.

It's real easy to loose track of where you are doing that. There's nothing in the sky to serve as a marker. Part of the fun, for me, was sitting up after a while and trying to figure out where we'd gotten to. It was even easier to get lost in this game after smoking an A-bomb.

Steve thought it was just side-splitting that the marijuana and opium mixture opened him up and freed him, and somehow made me more grounded. I realized, as he chattered amicably along with Kip and KG and I broodingly watched the sky pass, that we'd undergone a role reversal.

I wondered idly if this was how Pony felt all the time. I guess I'd always imagined that this was what it would feel like to exist in his mind. I chuckled indolently at the thought of my little brother doing any drugs. Pony just wasn't like that.

Pony really was sensitive. No one else I knew cared about returning library books on time or made it a priority to look for four leaf clovers every time he sat on some grass. I bet it was really eating him up, not knowing where we'd got off to. I bet Darry wasn't too thrilled with me being gone either.

"Are we gonna stop soon?" I wondered aloud, interrupting Kip's rambling musings on Freud's _real_ issue.

KG glanced at me from the rear view mirror. "You wanna stretch your legs, or something?" he asked.

Kip flipped around in his chair and laughed. "Naw," he snickered, flicking a stale piece of popcorn at me. "He's got the munchies. He wants to stop for some roughage."

Steve giggled like a twelve-year-old girl. "He drank all that water when we stopped at exit 23," he snorted. "You gotta take a piss, Soda?"

I had to grin, seeing Steve acting like that. He clapped Kip on the shoulder as the pair cackled at themselves. I'd never seen Steve take to anyone like he'd apparently taken to KG and Kip.

"I'd like to call home," I announced, and Steve spun around.

"What would you want to go and do a stupid thing like that for?" he demanded. "Don't tell me you're ready to bail out already. We haven't even made it to California and this was all your idea."

I blinked at Steve, surprised that he'd taken a tone with me that he usually reserved for other people--people who got under his skin.

"I just wanted to check on Pony," I told him. "You know, make sure he's okay and all."

Steve rolled his eyes. "Even thousands of miles away, the kid still manages to mess things up."

I ignored him and laid back down to watch the clouds after KG promised to pull off at the next gas station. I think it bothered Steve more that he didn't have someone to phone home to than that I did.

Once we got to the gas station, I had trouble letting the dime drop from my fingers and into the pay phone. Of course, I wanted to check up on my brothers, but now that it had come down to it, I hadn't any idea what I was supposed to say to them.

I didn't figure it would go over too smoothly with Darry when I explained that we'd taken off for California. I didn't even want to think about how I was gonna make Pony understand why I'd left--why I hadn't even been able to say goodbye. In the back of the hazy, clam-baked van, calling home had seemed like the easiest thing in the world. I guessed the fresh air had helped straighten out my judgment some.

I stood there with the receiver off the hook until the operator's shrill voice advised me to hang up the phone and try again if I'd like to place a call.

"You okay, buddy?" Steve was suddenly behind me. The dissent in his earlier attitude had vanished. I figured the fresh air must've done him some good too.

I ran my hands through my hair and let out a long, steady stream of breath. "This is harder than I thought," I confessed. "I've got no idea what to say to them. And I ain't exactly itching to get bawled out by Darry right now."

"Then don't call," Steve offered simply. "You can do it once we get to San Francisco."

I shook my head, rolling the dime between my fingers. "You don't understand Stevie," I sighed miserably. "I have to call."

Steve half grinned and slung an arm around my shoulder. "I believe the theme of this trip is quickly becoming 'We don't _have_ to do anything.'"


End file.
